Chapter 76 Myla
Chapter Seventy-Six: Myla
I fucking hate the throne room. Beneath its silver adornments and drapes of deep red velvet hides a darkness.
The punishments administered in this room begin and end in the shadow of my father’s throne—his seat of power made of ancient dragon bones, masterfully crafted dragon wings flaring as if the chair itself is preparing to take flight.
Beneath the glow of the chandeliers and above the glittering onyx floor, this room holds so much more than the aristocratic fae that currently mingle within it.
It’s where the condemned come to be judged, their fates locked in before they ever step foot in front of my father.
It’s the birthplace of my first set of scars, my once clean skin now a menagerie of markings that can be traced back to the moment I was dragged up the center aisle and thrown before the king.
It had been ten years, and the wounds still ache as if they are fresh any time I step foot in here.
Ten years, and the scent of the burning wood and oil on the lamps still trigger me to the point my fingers tremble.
Ten years and dozens of bodies that I have claimed in my own form of retribution, and I still fucking hate this room and everything it stands for.
But I need information that only the people here can give me.
Leaning back against the wooden wall of the small mezzanine overlooking the throne room, I stay back so as not to be seen by anyone below.
This space is meant for musicians during celebrations, but today, it’s serving as the perfect spot to eavesdrop.
Plucking a green grape I swiped before climbing up here, I pop it into my mouth and listen to the chatter below.
For now, it’s nothing more than idle gossip, and with how rich they are, one would think they could at least pay to have something more interesting to talk about.
Yet, as the night wears on and my bundle of grapes dwindles, I begin to wonder if forcing myself to endure this room is a mistake.
Particularly as the remaining tenderness of my lashes makes me shift uncomfortably.
A pair of voices grows louder than the others, and when I strain my ears to catch what they’re saying, I realize they are coming from the small stairwell leading to the mezzanine.
Sucking in a breath, I pull my headdress into place and squat on the balls of my feet, dagger in hand.
Leesi had forced me into a light green dress, the matching fabric wrapping around my head and half of my face a light enough material to breathe through easily.
No one paid me mind as I meandered the halls before the party, my latest punishment only furthering my status as a social pariah. Not that I am complaining.
Crouching low, I listen to the scrape of boots on stone as they climb higher up the concealed staircase. My heart beats heavily in anticipation while my fingers roll along the hilt of my dagger, soothing movements that pacify the anxiousness of being discovered.
The footsteps come to a stop on the other side of the door.
“Tell me you have some positive news,” a male asks, somewhat breathlessly.
A sigh responds, followed by the scraping of fabric against stone.
“They are avoiding our border where we’ve been attacking them.
We have to go somewhere new if we have any hope of fulfilling the king’s quota of mages.
” My ears perk as I lean towards the door, picking up the steadier inhales of the second male.
They’re close enough that if they listened carefully, they would hear the sound of my breathing and heartbeat too.
“The king will not take kindly to that answer. We have to get close to the numbers he’s asked for, or you’re going to tell him we’ve failed.”
The two bicker about who will be tasked with telling the king, and I consider outing myself just to tell them to move the fuck on when they finally change the subject.
“He killed one of the mages last night. I think it had to do with the failed attempt to get that black dragon.”
I arch a brow at that.
“Damn. That means there are only two remaining. And we’re supposed to get another five so he can test the big one?” There’s a slow exhale of breath. “I know King Kamon is desperate, but this is madness.”
“Quiet,” the other barks. There’s more shuffling, and I hold my breath, my blood heating at the thought of releasing pent-up energy that’s grown restless within me. But when footsteps sound again, they are moving away from me, growing quieter until all I hear is the same revelry as before. Damn.
Sheathing my dagger, I sit back on my heels and let my elbows rest on my knees.
The king is taking mages? To what end if they’ll just die once they pass through the Spell?
Does Navin know? And if he does, why the fuck hasn’t he said anything?
Perhaps his love for me is finally as compartmentalized as he thinks mine is for him.
Swallowing a bitter taste at the thought, I release a breath, stirring the veil in front of my mouth.
It’s what I deserve, isn’t it? To be iced out.
No one as good as Navin wants someone like me lingering over them like a stain they can’t quite get rid of.
What was it I had told Aria? Just because what is inside of us is dark doesn’t mean that it holds less value than something light.
I don’t know what possessed me to attempt to comfort her in that moment.
To offer words that were soft for once instead of covered in thorns.
It could have been the way she talked of her own experiences.
It could have even been the fact that I found myself resonating with what she was saying.
It is ludicrous to believe that I might have found common ground with a siren of all beings, and yet it is impossible to ignore that Aria had spoken to a sadness and loneliness and pain that I understood intimately.
One that made my mouth twist in confusion because I didn’t want to give a damn about her.
I didn’t want there to be familiarity between us.
The chatter below grows louder, knocking me out of my head.
I crawl forward just far enough to peer over the edge, keeping low to avoid being seen.
Watching as the crowd parts, I recognize the top of Navin’s head immediately, half of his long hair pulled back into a knot.
He cradles a silver guard helmet, armor adorning his body.
It isn’t unusual for him to wear the full gear of our King’s Riders—the highest rank in the fae army—but he tends to only wear it when he’s being sent on a mission or to patrol our borders.
While my brother looks forward to the former, the latter he absolutely loathes.
“My son,” our father says, his voice colder than the peaks of the mountain this palace is built into. “What information do you have?”
“I spoke with Sir Dae’s wife and confirmed our suspicions. He’s officially missing.” Words of surprise and shock reverberate over the throne room. I grit my teeth, fighting off a grin. Parts of him were missing to be sure.
“Have you interrogated her?” the king retorts—leaving little to the imagination of what sort of interrogating he means.
The King’s Riders are not known for their manners or grace.
Their ruthlessness matches my own. Navin, of course, is the exception, using the fear he inflicts as the crown prince before he’d ever raise a hand to a female.
“I did,” Navin answers with hesitance I doubt my father notices. “She seems genuinely unsure of his whereabouts and can think of no reason why he would leave when their businesses and family are so heavily tied to Khargis.”
“It’s the Shadow,” someone shouts, turning heads in their direction. “The bastard is hunting us and has been for a long time.” Murmurs rise as the nobles show their assent.
“We have no proof—”
“We have a list of males of varying notoriety who have gone missing,” another noble says, cutting Navin off.
“Sir Dae is the most influential, but who’s to say the Shadow will stop there?
He’s unpredictable. Picking victims at will.
What if he turns his sights on our king?
” At that, the fae below erupt in a flurry of panic, their panicked voices growing until my father holds his hand up, and the room immediately falls silent.
“Your worry over me is as unnecessary as it is insulting. As if I would allow a male who slithers under the cover of night to get the best of me.”
My nails scrape against the wooden floor. The amount of gold I would pay to watch his face as he learns that Khargis’s Shadow is none other than his abomination of a daughter is limitless.
“Your Majesty, the supposed Shadow is nothing more than a myth. If he is killing all of these people, where are their bodies? Where are the witnesses to the crimes?” Navin asks, cocking his head to the side.
A flicker of warmth settles in my heart as he tries to dissuade the king from the notion that the Shadow—that I—might be a problem.
He had asked me those very questions in the past, but I never answered them, leaving his imagination to fill in the gaps.
“Even the most stealthy among us gets caught eventually.”
Well that feels like a very pointed line. But there is no way Navin knows I’m here. Our communication has been limited the past few weeks, as he has been sent on more missions to patrol our borders.
It’s obvious there are a few who disagree, their shaking heads and awkward silence giving them away.
My father waits for the noise to quiet, the silver crown adorning his head catching the light when he stands and steps down the dais to place a hand on Navin’s shoulder.
“I have already allocated a group of guards to begin patrolling the lower districts. We must show our people that this Shadow cannot be allowed to terrorize at will. I assume this is a task you can oversee?”
“Yes, Father,” Navin answers, and my gut sours.
“Excellent.” He drops his hand and continues to the exit, the wide onyx double doors opening for him. I catch a glimpse of brown robes on the other side, Father Yamin’s head dipped in a bow as my father joins him.
Turning, I begin my descent down the stairwell to the first floor, the exit hidden in a servants’ corridor.
Moving quickly, I stick to the shadows of the hallway as I make my way to my room.
The night is still young enough for me to visit Khargis and warn my informant.
The last thing I want is for the guards to take away my eyes in the city.
Opening the door to the sitting room, my steps halt as my gaze clashes with Navin’s.
“That line was for you,” he says from where he’s sitting on the arm of the couch, drumming his fingers along its back. “In case you were wondering.”
I don’t question how he knew I was present in the throne room. If anything, I’m more surprised he beat me here. “Duly noted.”
“You can’t go to Khargis.”
“And why is that?” I ask, closing the door behind me.
He shoots an arm out towards it. “You were in there, Myla. You heard what the king said. It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m not afraid of the King’s Riders, and I’d think you’d have a little more respect for my skills than to believe they actually pose a threat.”
“One-on-one? They don’t. But our father was underplaying how many he sent.
I checked with Commander Hinata, and there are dozens of guards already crawling around the lower district, more being sent as we speak.
No streets are clear. There are no shadows for the Shadow to hide in.
” He stands and strides towards me, light playing off of his silver armor.
“All it takes is for one of them to see you, and they’ll sound the alarm until you’re overwhelmed. ”
“I’ll deserve whatever happens to me if I’m dumb enough to get caught.”
“Myla”—his hand reaches out to wrap around my arm gently, snapping my gaze to his—“what is it that you want from this?” When I fail to answer, he shakes his head, hands covering his face before he lets them fall to his sides.
“What happened to you was fucking horrible, Myla. What’s continued to happen under the guise of a punishment by the gods is utter bullshit, and you don’t deserve it.
You never have. And I’m sorry. What Daiya did—”
I take a step back, every nerve ending on high alert for a danger that isn’t even fucking here. It’s a triggered response to that name—her name. I haven’t allowed myself to think of it, let alone heard it spoken, in a very long time.
Navin’s eyes soften as he watches whatever emotion I’ve let slip onto my face. “Myla—”
“You asked what I want from this? Why I keep risking myself for those people in Khargis? It’s because if I do not have this, then I have nothing.
” And there it is—a bit of the truth. Of the fear that I keep tucked deep within.
The shambles of my life—the whippings and degradation and utter disdain with which I am looked upon—is worth enduring if what I do in response matters at the end of the day.
If my defiance of the labels and rules my father and his father and all of the males who came before them have placed on the females of this kingdom actually makes a difference, then so what if my life is the cost?
If the oppressed can see someone fighting for them, I have to believe it will inspire more of them to rise up.
Even in the face of defeat. And, selfishly—psychotically—I enjoy being the Shadow.
I enjoy watching those who have done awful and horrific things to others beg for mercy from the likes of me.
It is a monstrous thing to heed the beckoning call of, but I accepted a long time ago that being monstrous doesn’t mean I can’t be a force for good.
How can I begin to verbalize all of that to Navin? Not even he, a male who has known me my entire life, could understand without judgement. Even if, deep down, I know that he wants to.
“I’m going.” There are no other words spoken as I slip into my bedroom to change.
When I step back out, Navin is gone. I shut down the replay of our conversation—the way he looked at me and the mention of her name.
And because I need the distraction, because I need anything else to focus on, I picture a siren with ruby-red hair and soft doe eyes.
I don’t allow myself to question why my mind goes to her as I open the glass slider and leave.